Smart. Responsible. Steadfast. (Or not…)

Jul 23, 2021 | Women's Voice & Power, Writing

Smart.
Responsible.
Steadfast.

These three are jailer’s cell.
A clanking of keys;
lockstep required. They demand,
silence, and shrink. My destiny
and demise, it seems.
I despise them so.

Of course I cannot go.

They say to me: There are rules to be followed and expectations to be met; even more to be exceeded. Who are you to want, let alone do anything different, anything more? And really, what’s wrong with the life that you have? Don’t you see? Smart, responsible, and steadfast is definitely the way to be!

What they don’t know is that I want to be wild and passionate and free. What they don’t understand is that underneath this expected and well-rehearsed demeanor I want to run naked through the woods and scream at the top of my lungs and dance wildly and eat food with my fingers and stay up until dawn doing who knows what.

What they don’t know is that I am inhabited by the Goddess herself, that a drum’s boom-boom, boom-boom causes my heart to beat faster, that I can hear what hummingbirds have to say, that I am merely bemused by all the activities that humans deem important but that I know don’t matter a whit.

I hold all wisdom. I am completely free of all restraint. And I express passion in everything I do – in my laughter and tears, my waking and sleeping, my walking and sitting, my speaking and writing, my touch, my silence, my gaze. I am electric. High voltage. Magnetizing. My scent lingers long after I’ve glided past you, making you woozy with desire and a familiarity you can’t seem to shake – and don’t want to.

Don’t you see? Wise, passionate, and free is what I am, who I am. It’s too late for me to be any less.

Wise.
Passionate.
Free.

These three are siren’s song.
A haunting melody;
they seduce. They beckon:
follow our voices, heed your own.
My dream and
desire, it’s certain.

Of course I must go.

Come with me?

*****

In cleaning out LOTS of files from my hard drive, I came across what you just read . I have no memory of when I wrote it or why. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to drag it to the trash icon on my desktop. It wanted to be heard.

In complete transparency, it took a bit for me to hit “publish” and let this one out. But Wise. Passionate. Free. kept working on me, calling to me, compelling me. And so, “publish,” it is!

I’m guessing I’m not alone in this. You, too, feel the tension between Smart. Responsible. Steadfast. and Wild. Passionate. Free. You, too, have things you’ve hidden away – whether on your computer and/or in your heart – that are longing to be found and heard, that call to you and compel you…

Those things, those whispers, those shouts, those callings? They all matter. They are beautiful and worthy expressions of your wisdom – that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within. And they can be trusted.

May it be so – for you and me both!

*****

Learning to hear and trust your own wisdom is one of the four pillars of SOVEREIGNTY – my live, 9-week program. We begin again in September. I hope you’ll join me.

This program was way more and way better and way deeper healing than I knew to ask for. Though I had an idea it would be awesome, what I got was a gift I didn’t know to ask for, much less receive. I’m so grateful I said, “yes.” ~ Sheri M

CLICK HERE to learn about SOVEREIGNTY.

Oh, and just in case you didn’t know, I send out Monday Morning Letters (via email) every week. Snippets of my story, some of the stories I love, and every bit of encouragement and support I can muster on behalf of your story. Subscribe.

The Divide between Silence and Speaking

Jul 16, 2021 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

Jan Richardson, one of my all time favorite writers and poets, has a poem called Having Taken the Fruit. Here are the last two verses:

It took a long time to figure out
that my stifling silence
was not a path
back to a paradise
where I could never live.

I finally learned to listen
to the hissing in my breath
that told me the roots / of my own soul
held the healing that I sought
and that each stilted syllable
I let loose
was another leaf
on the tree of life.

I could stop here. Invite you to read it again. And then close with “May it be so.” That would be more than enough for this post…for a lifetime.

But, not surprisingly, I have more to say…

Which is the point: speaking, saying what I think, not allowing “stifling silence.”

Believe me, I’ve known much of just the opposite. More stories, experiences, and moments than I care to count in which I did not speak up, did not use my voice, was not fully myself.

Here’s a recent one:

I left my corporate job in September of last year. It was not an easy choice, but it was a clear one. One day, an average day, nothing out of the ordinary, I realized that I had (once again!) come to believe that my silence would save me. Surely, if I held my tongue, kept my thoughts to myself, put my head down, and just worked, I could survive.

Even more, I had talked myself into believing that surely, over time, things would get better. I just need to be patient, bide my time, wait things out. Eventually I’d be able to come up for air and use my voice and speak my mind and make a contribution and be acknowledged for the brilliant contributions that were mine. Right?

(I cannot tell you how many times I’ve had these exact thoughts over the years: in my marriage, in other jobs and other relationships, in justifying every denial of my own wants, needs, and desires…)

Did I mention I left my job in September?

[Perhaps it’s worth naming, at least parenthetically, that though there was dysfunction in my job – and my former marriage and and and – what I’m most curious about and committed to is understanding my own behavior in the midst, my own patterns, the ways in which I show up – or don’t. Dysfunction is probably a given everywhere; how I choose to “be” in it, is always up to me. OK. Back to where we left off: me leaving my job in September…]

Choosing my own silence became more painful than the costs that would surely come with speaking up. There just wasn’t enough ROI (return on investment) to make it worth the price I had to pay.

And therein lies the struggle, yes?

To cross the divide between silence and speaking always carries risk and cost! (I am convinced that both are always part-and-parcel when a woman chooses to use her voice.)

We keep wishing for a way to speak, a way to be, without having to bear the consequences that will undoubtedly ensue: the apple carts we’ll tip over, the ache of putting boundaries in place, the backlash that’s unavoidable, the misunderstanding that’s certain, the loss, the fear, and the unanswerable question of “what if…?”

Sorry. I don’t have a a three-step plan or easy-fix for you. Through instead of around. Deeper instead of skimming the surface. Awareness instead of avoidance. Yep, all that…

Thankfully, Jan Richardson offers much encouragement in this regard. Just two stanzas from another poem she wrote called The Magdalene’s Blessing:

I tell you
this is not a banishment
from the garden.

This is an invitation,
a choice,
a threshold,
a gate.

This is your life
calling to you
from a place
you could never
have dreamed
but now that you
have glimpsed its edge
you cannot imagine
choosing any other way.

Not a three-step plan, or easy-fix, but true and rich and wise:

Your stifling silence is the opposite of your life calling to you.
The path back to a paradise where you could never live is the opposite of a place you could never have dreamed.
And listening to the hissing in your breath is what enables you to choose another way, to choose yourself, to heal your very self and soul.

[Perhaps it’s worth naming that this does not always mean that you have to leave a job or a marriage or a conversation. But what’s almost always true is that when you cross the divide between silence and speaking, risks and costs are present. What’s always true is that your voice, your words, your heart – all these and then some – are worth every single cost, every single time. “…you cannot imagine choosing any other way.”]

May it be so.

*****

I send out a letter every Monday morning – with bits and pieces of my story, the telling of stories I love, and every bit of encouragement and support I can muster on behalf of your story. I’d love for you to have it. SUBSCRIBE

6 Ways to Access Your Inner Wisdom

Jun 7, 2021 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

It’s taken me a lifetime to learn that I can trust myself and my own knowing instead of needing to rely on external sources of wisdom: parents, authority figures, teachers, professors, religious leaders, experts, even books.

I spent decades convinced that I was missing some crucial piece of information, that there was a magic pill or silver bullet or golden key that, if I could but find, would make sense of everything. Surely life couldn’t be this hard. Surely there were answers just waiting for the right questions to be asked (of the right people). Surely I should do better, be better, and rise above every struggle and challenge.

I believed that the wisdom I so desperately needed was “out there”; even more, that anything within me was suspect, if not untrustworthy and dangerous.

What I’ve (slowly) earned is that everything I was looking for was already and always mine. I have every bit of the wisdom I need. I am trustworthy. And “dangerous” might be the very best thing.

Despite how long it’s taken me – and the ways in which I still have miles to go – I have picked up a few things along the way. Maybe, just maybe I can speed up even a few of my lessons-learned for you.

Here are 6 (of so many) ways to access your inner wisdom:

1. Give yourself permission to spill everything. Whether on a piece of paper, a new document on your laptop, and/or in sacred space with a therapist, Spiritual Director, or coach. Unedited. Uncensored. Unrestrained. We spend so much time with the opposite: editing, censoring, holding back. Listen to all the chatter in your brain. Let your fear speak or shout. And let it all out in a contained and trusted way. When you let yourself say everything, you’ll hear what’s most true, what rises above the din, what your soul longs to sing out, what your heart knows.

2. Practice articulating one true thing every day. Just one. That’s all. Speak out loud (to a person) one thing that is honest and completely consistent with what you hear and know within. Then feel what that feels like – for you! When you begin to speak your wisdom (in fits and starts, even with baby steps), more of your wisdom will rise up and long to be expressed. I promise.

3. Let others’ responses and reactions become your divining rod, your GPS, the exact data you need to know you’re on the right track. Exactly!

4. Pay attention to anything that has you leaning toward staying in line, following the rules, not upsetting any apple carts. Then ask yourself: What do I really think about this? The answer? Yep. Your inner wisdom – speaking up.

5. Notice where are you clear that things are not OK as-is. In a relationship. At work. Something you witness online. In the larger culture. All of these and then some. That discontent you sense, that frustration, that grief? Mmmmm. That IS your wisdom. It’s revolutionary and radical and all about transformation. Because it’s just that wise!

6. Look back. When was a time in which you DID hear and trust your inner wisdom? What happened? What was the impact? How does that impact still reverberate through time? See how powerful you are? You and your wisdom can be trusted. More of that please!

You are the best and most reliable source of wisdom ever. Look within. Look within. Look within. You’ll find every bit of the insight and direction and guidance you need, desire, and deserve. ‘Promise.

And just in case you’re wondering, yes: there are external sources of wisdom that are of value. Of course! But not when they conflict with that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within. Not when they cause you to second-guess or question yourself. Not when they even hint that you don’t know. Not when following them means you quiet down or shrink back or play small or compromise or comply or swallow your truth or, or, or…

Did I mention? You are the best and most reliable source of wisdom ever. Look within. Look within. Look within.

*****

Which of these feels the most scary or risky for you? That one? It’s the place to start. It’s where your wisdom is already bursting at the seams and longing to pour forth. Start small. Build the muscle. And watch what happens, over time, when your wisdom is not only accessed, but trusted and expressed.

Hit “reply” or send me a DM and let me know what resonates for you, where you feel the most resistance, or what situation or circumstance or relationship you already know is in dire need of the wisdom that is uniquely yours. I’d love to hear. Really!

Choosing others’ comfort OR choosing self

May 31, 2021 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

I have a library of personal stories in which I let others’ needs demands overrule my own. I’m not proud of them, certainly not happy about them, and aware that without them I would have never learned the lessons they taught: boundaries, self-care, self-esteem, sovereignty, and more. Of them all, the hardest one has been learning to use my voice; not speaking in and of itself, but speaking my truth without editing, censoring, holding back, or apologizing.

“When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.” ~ Audre Lorde

She’s right, of course. But knowing this doesn’t make it easier. It’s scary to anticipate the fallout, the misunderstanding, even subsequent isolation and still speak, still write, still tell the truth, still articulate an opinion, still stand our ground.

What’s far easier, at least in the short run, is compromising. Saying just enough, but not upsetting anyone. Hinting at what we mean and then getting angry (usually with ourselves) when we’re not intuitively understood. And worst of all, saying what others want to hear or doing what others want, even and especially at our own expense.

When I look back at my many experiences and stories of such, what frustrates me most is how many times I felt like I had no choice; that I had to bite my tongue or censure my thoughts or tamp down my desires. I could not see a way to honor myself without someone else paying a price (or so I thought). And all of this without any recognition of the tremendous price I was paying over and over again.

It’s a false dichotomy – and an untenable one: either keeping others comfortable or honoring our very self.

We should never have to deliberate between compromising ourself, no matter how slightly, or paying a price for holding fast to what we know, believe, and feel. And yet we do – over and over and over again.

Ready for the good news in all of this?

When we inventory and acknowledge the times in which we’ve compromised, not spoken up, not told or lived our truth, not chosen ourself, these become the impetus to do nothing of the sort ever again! Our hardest experiences – past and present – are what enable us to change course; to reimagine and rewrite our story, then live into the one we desire and deserve. Our awareness is what enables choice – and change.

Do the risks, costs, or fears go away? Absolutely not. In some ways, they probably increase. But so does our strength and certainty and courage and sovereignty.

Yes, in retrospect, I might wish that I’d chosen myself sooner, that I’d trusted my voice earlier, that I’d nipped any form of compromise in the bud and in the moment. But I’m profoundly grateful for the gift of perspective – to witness my own growth and transformation; to feel the surge of strength, even joy, that comes when I do choose myself; to extend myself grace when that has not been the case – and may yet be again.

So, my invitation to you?

List out the stories you wish were not yours – the ones in which you compromised or stayed silent or said what others wanted to hear or sold yourself short or, or, or… Let yourself feel all the feels associated with each. And then stand back and look at you now – who you have become, what you have accomplished, how you have grown, what you now know and understand and believe about yourself that once felt like mist and shadow. That’s a story worth telling and living. That’s your story – complex and dramatic and challenging and amazing. And the awareness and appreciation of that story? That’s the reimagining and retelling and redeeming of stories that I’m talking about all the time. It changes everything.

*****

A tiny PS: One of the reasons I keep telling the story of Eve – and countless others – is because the common telling perpetuates the (wildly untrue) message that when women choose themselves, disaster befalls. It’s no wonder we compromise and comply and keep our truest desires to ourselves! This is why her story (and countless others ) must be reimagined and retold and redeemed. Ours, as well. And when they are? Yep: it changes everything. Mmmm. Let’s do that, yes?

Amelia Earhart. Agency. Taking action.

Apr 26, 2021 | My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

Amelia Mary Earhart was born July 24, 1897. In her short life, she was the first female aviator to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean and set many other records. She wrote best-selling books about her flying experiences. And she was instrumental in the formation of The Ninety Nines, an organization of female pilots. After disappearing on July 2, 1937, she was declared dead on January 5, 1939.

As if all that weren’t notable enough, there’s this quote of hers:

The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward.

Wow.

The word I use for this is “agency” – not only knowing I can choose but actually doing the choosing itself, acting on the decision, taking action.

We have agency. But oh, how tempting to believe otherwise.

I’m a perfect case study.

I love to deliberate, to consider all the options, to weigh every pro and con, to journal, to reflect, to be curious, to wonder if I have enough data or resources or wisdom, and to then take every bit of all that pondering (and all that it subsequently invites) as permission to keep my head in the clouds instead of landing the damn plane.

But as long as I circle, as long as I allow myself to stay in deliberation, I don’t take action.

And why would I choose such a thing?

Easy: fear.

(I’ll keep speaking for myself, but I’m guessing you can relate.)

I fear that if I not only listen to, but actually trust and act on the wisdom that is mine (not all the perseverating, but the deeper know-that-I-know-that-I-know voice within) there will be an onslaught of risks, costs, and consequences that will show up and undoubtedly subsume me. Disaster will befall. Relationships will crumble. The world will come to an end.

Yep. That sounds about right for starters.

Of course there will be risks and costs and consequences to actually trusting and acting on my wisdom! That is always the way of it! It inevitably leads me into brand new territory, change, and transformation. (Which means that people, systems, and institutions around me will have to change, too. Yikes: more risks and costs and consequences!)

What if the awareness of risks and costs and consequences was the very thing that compelled our actions – instead of stopping them?

The best case study?

Back to Amelia Earhart. I’m thinking she was pretty clear on the risks and that those were the very things that kept her going instead of holding her back; that compelled her instead of stopped her.

Right.

So, bottom line?

Amelia Earhart invites you (and me) to choose – and then act on that choice; to decide – and then act on that decision; to acknowledge and USE the agency that’s yours.

Amelia Earhart invites you (and me) to land the damn plane. Or maybe start flying it in the first place! To push the boundaries, the limits, any and every restraint that’s kept you grounded. Say what you feel, what you mean, what you know. Trust your voice (and your wisdom), your creativity, your value, your worth. Be completely, fully, authentically you – all the time.

May it be so.

Wisdom does as Wisdom says

Apr 19, 2021 | My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Women hold all the wisdom they could ever need, that the planet could ever need, that the world so desperately needs.

With that bold a statement as start, why then, do we so rarely trust ourselves? Why do we, individually and collectively, know the pain and trauma and anger and mess-of-it-all that we do? Why is the world not already changed, or at least changing faster?

I won’t speak for you, but I am pretty clear on my own answer to these questions:

There’s a vast and painful difference between hearing our wisdom and actually trusting it, between knowing what we know and acting on what we know, between what wisdom says and what wisdom does.

Why?

We hear our intuition, that know-that-we-know-that-we-know voice within. It’s clear. It’s decisive. It has a very strong opinion! But instead of going with it, making choices in alignment with such, saying a clear “yes” or “no,” we waffle.

And why?

Because to trust our wisdom, to act on it, will – inevitably – have risks, costs, and consequences.

We’re afraid of those.

When fear shows up, the tendency is rife to try and find other wisdom; something that does not have risks, costs, or consequences attached. Which usually means we repress our own knowing and default to the wisdom around us. We look to and lean on those people/institutions/powers (translate white and male) that promise to keep us safe as long as we don’t step out of line, don’t speak our truth, don’t speak at all.

I can type these words because they have been true about me. Decades of growing up in the shadow of the church and an authoritative wisdom that I was not to question. Self-esteem that was shaped by the glorification of self-sacrifice on the one hand and shame on the other (NOT a good combination). And a way of being in the world that was determined by anything/everything other than my own knowing and intuition.

But inevitably, a day came when the gap between what I heard/knew and who I was required to be, grew too wide. I could no longer bridge it with more comprome and compliance. I had to act on my wisdom, to trust it, to trust myself. No matter what.

And no surprise: risks, costs, and consequences abounded!

But there were benefits I couldn’t have imagined, as well: empowerment, discernment, clarity, hope. Even more, the establishment of a baseline: Oh, this is what my wisdom sounds like, feels like, looks like!

Believe me, I’m far from perfect at this. But I have come a long way, have let a lot go, have lost a lot along the way, and have gained far more.

It is a powerful thing: a woman’s wisdom. Following through on it? Life-changing. World-changing. And then some.

How about for you? (Just a few questions to ponder, journal through, and if you’re up for it, DM me your answers! I’d love to hear: truly.)

What would be different in your relationships, your sense of self, your work in the world, if you could consistently hear and trust your wisdom?
What is compromise, compliance, and not acting on your wisdom costing you?
What might happen if you allowed risk, cost, and consequence to be the very discernment tools that tell you you can trust your wisdom?
What is the change you most deeply desire for our world? (Your wisdom already knows what to do. What if you did what it said?)

It has always been needed: women’s wisdom.

And it has always been present.

Now it’s up to us to bring the two together…

…to be women who listen to and trust ourselves. On our own behalf. On behalf of the planet. On behalf of a world that so desperately needs us to not just know, but to “be” and most of all, to do.

May it be so.

« Older Entries

Next Entries »